Never Say Never Ever
by rjrog77
Summary: Just because he said it was impossible, that doesn't make it so. Reunion!fic, Ten/Rose


When the Doctor finally came back, proving yet again in that irrepressible way of his way of his that for him the impossible rarely held fast or held true, he saw her before she saw him.

It was the Torchwood Christmas Ball. Rose was there under duress (she'd learned soon after she joined that it was one of those events that _everyone_ was expected to attend, unless they were too sick to leave their beds; she'd tried her best to talk her 'father' into letting her stay at home, even getting her mother to plead her case, but Pete hadn't listened to her and so here she was). They hadn't been there long, and were fairly close to the entrance still—in sight of the door, even. But as it happened, just as the Doctor walked through the door, Rose had turned away for a few seconds to speak to Pete.

(She had tried calling him 'Dad,' mostly to please her mother, but the endearment had never seemed to fit. _A bit like the Doctor and the word 'fantastic' after he regenerated_, she had thought, remembering that time.)

And so it was Mickey, ever-faithful Mickey, who was the only one of the trio to see the Doctor enter the room. Catching the Doctor's eye, he motioned him over to them without saying a word; not wanting to spoil the surprise (and not sure he could keep the smile from his face for too much longer), Mickey mumbled something to Rose about going to get a drink and moved away The Doctor started moving towards them after nodding an acknowledgment to Mickey, his eyes locked on Rose.

He had been without her so long that he could not have stopped looking at her now even if he had wanted to. There were a few trials for him on his way over to them—he trod on more than one foot (and so had to dodge return shoves and darting bodies). But he reached the Tyler group eventually, and listened quietly to the conversation that was going on.

"So, Rose, do you fancy a dance?"

Pete Tyler smiled down at her.

"You can't just stand there all night."

"Oh, _can't_ I? You just watch me!"

Rose's voice was full of suppressed laughter that took any sting out of the words. Her eyes danced with merriment as Pete grinned at her, not upset in the slightest.

"So, will you?"

"I—"

She got no further before a heartbreakingly familiar voice that she had long ago forced herself to accept that she would never hear again cut in:

"I rather think," the Doctor said, in that nonchalant way of his that had been one of the things that she had missed most about him, "that this dance is _mine_. Don't you, Rose Tyler?"

She stood there in a state of shock, unable to believe it was him. OK, it _looked_ like him (same face, same eyes, same incorrigibly untidy hair), but this person was wearing a shockingly ugly blue suit. _Her_ Doctor always, always wore a lovely _brown_ one. Was this another one of those illusions, sent to torture her? She had had so many of them, when she'd first arrived here; hallucinations that were so _real_ it broke her every single time she'd realised they weren't. She couldn't bear it if this was another one now, so long after she had begun to heal again.

The Doctor held his hand out to her, as he had done years ago when he had first asked her to travel with him. She looked into his eyes—in him, always much more the fabled "windows into the soul" than with other people she knew—and saw shining there the abiding love for her that she knew now had always been there before. She had half-feared it might have taken his sanity with it when she had been torn from him, but his eyes were bright and clear.

The hope that something might still come of the love they shared had been the one thing that had sustained her in this looking-glass world, and she was glad beyond measure to see that _yes_, he was here, and _yes_, he still loved her. Maybe, now that he had done what he'd proclaimed 'impossible' (again; she was going to have words with him about that one), she would actually hear him put the feeling into words. That is, if this "Doctor" in front of her was real.

She hesitated, hating the clouded expression that came into his eyes at her visible doubt (hating herself even more for putting it there); but she had to be _sure_. Anyone or anything that knew her history would know this was the once face that would _always_ get to her.

It was Mickey, a truer friend to her than she had ever deserved, who broke the deadlock.

"Rose—you've been waiting for him to come back for donkey's years, and now here he is and you're just standing there? What's wrong with you? And how did you get in here, Doctor, anyway? It's an invitation-only ..." Mickey's voice trailed away as the Doctor waved his psychic paper at him, smirking slightly, his eyes never leaving Rose's face.

When Mickey turned to look at Rose, he finally understood the meaning of the expression "like a deer in headlights"—it described the look on her face to perfection. He could see the disbelief—and yet at the same time, bursts of painful, desperate hope—in her eyes. _Was it him? Was it finally, finally him?_

"You can see him?"

"Of _course_ I can see him. I saw him before you did!"

Mickey was about to say something else, but it did not matter; her oldest friend's first comment had been all that Rose needed. She stepped forward towards the Doctor, her eyes locked on his, until she was close enough to touch him. Being only his friend, though, after the declaration she'd made to him on that beach so long ago, would no longer be enough. Just holding his hand, going back to where they were then, was not enough and both of them knew it. So when she reached up past his outstretched hand to touch his cheek with her fingers, neither of them was remotely surprised.

The clouded expression left his face and was replaced by the infinitely more familiar sparkling eyes and somewhat manic grin. He could not keep his eyes off her, did not want to miss a minute of this future he had been so sure he couldn't have, but when she moved her hand so that her palm cupped his cheek he let his eyes close as he allowed himself to savour the sensation of her skin on his.

Oh, he'd wasted _so much_ time, so many opportunities to treasure Rose as he always should have done. But now he had a second chance—him, the 'no second chances' sort of a man—and for once in his miserable existence he was going to do what he had to do to make sure that he didn't screw it up.

He breathed her name as he re-opened his eyes, and brought his hand up to hold hers against his cheek so that he could move his head and brush the lightest of kisses on her palm.

"Come dance with me?" His voice was wistful as he smiled down at her. Rose took the hint that he wanted her to himself for a while (_some things never change,_ she thought) and allowed him to draw her onto the dance floor. Luckily enough, the music currently playing was a slow and vaguely romantic piece (not Glen Miller's _In the Mood_, sadly. Miller had never written that song in this universe), but for the two of them it would hardly have mattered whatever kind of music it had been. As they started to move around the floor, they had eyes for no-one but each other.

"You told me…" Rose's voice started to wobble, much to her dismay; she stopped talking for a second to compose herself and started again. "You told me that I could never see you again. Why did you lie to me?" Her voice broke on the last word and she swallowed hard, determined not to let herself cry in front of him. She needed to hear his answer—and how he had done the 'impossible'. The next thing out of her mouth was harsher than she'd meant it to be (she wasn't angry, just emotional, and she had never been good at staying calm when she was emotional) but she was rapidly losing the battle against the tears at this stage.

"_Why_?"


End file.
